


partners in exasperation

by katsumi



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bickering, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-13 19:12:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10520052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katsumi/pseuds/katsumi
Summary: It's bad enough that the neighborhood cat won't stop howling, but then Jyn's downstairs neighbor turns up on her doorstep all grouchy and accuses her of harboring an illegal pet. That's the last straw.





	

**Author's Note:**

> There don't seem to be many modern AUs and I wanted to try to change that. Also I wanted a universe where Galen/Lyra adopt baby Bodhi and he and Jyn grow up as siblings because of course.

Jyn’s lying flat on her back on the carpet, legs up the wall, two pillows over her face. The doors are closed, the windows pulled shut, Bodhi’s got the sound on Final Fantasy XV jacked up way too high, and still, _still_ she can hear that goddamn cat.

 

“Um,” says Bodhi, from the couch. “Is this normal? It sounds hungry.”

 

Jyn rips the pillows off, cranes her neck back to scowl at him. “How would you know? Do you speak cat?”

 

Bodhi considers this. “Maybe it’s just that _I’m_ hungry.”

 

“Then eat,” Jyn snaps. “Better yet: eat the cat.”

 

Bodhi bypasses this comment entirely. “Don’t you think we should go searching for it, though? I mean, what if it’s lost?”

 

“Bodhi. If it’s lost, and we find it, then we _have a cat_.”

 

“Yes, but—”

 

“I don’t want a cat.”

 

“Yes, but—”

 

“We’re not getting a cat.”

 

Bodhi pouts. This would be hard to resist if Jyn hadn’t literally grown up with it. Bodhi was the child who could ask nicely and get anything he wanted; Jyn was the child who hated to ask and got upset when she didn’t receive it anyways. Their parents might still be susceptible to the Bodhi pout, but Jyn’s immune by this point; she will not succumb to her brother’s stupidly angelic face.

 

“Fine,” says Bodhi, as though he actually thought there was a chance she was going to adopt the screeching cat from hell. “But we wouldn’t have to keep it. We could take it to a shelter. We—”

 

Someone knocks on the apartment door, sharp.

 

“Hold that thought,” says Jyn, twisting until she’s on her stomach and then pushing to her feet.

 

(She hopes he doesn’t hold that thought. If Bodhi pouts _while holding a cat in his arms_ she’s probably fucked.)

 

When she opens the door, there’s a man standing on the other side: tall, a tad rumpled, face pinched into a tight frown.

 

“You know,” he says, menacingly quiet. “This building does not allow cats.”

 

Jyn scowls, more offended than she probably ought to be. “Okay, look, I don’t know who you are, but—are you fucking kidding me?”

 

“That noise—”

 

“Is not coming from my apartment!”

 

“You’re sure? Because it sounds a hell of a lot like it is.”

 

She takes a step towards him, furious. She can’t possibly be that menacing in sweats and an oversized sweatshirt, but even so, he takes a step back.

 

“You must be hearing wrong. That’s not my fucking cat. It can’t be, because if it were my cat, I would have murdered it by now and _there would finally be peace._ ”

 

From back in the apartment, she hears Bodhi yelp: “Don’t even say that!”

 

The man at the door blinks down at her. The frown lines of his forehead ease just a little.

 

“I could have sworn,” he says, finally. “I’ve been—” He runs a hand through his hair. “Fuck, I’ve been trying to trace the sound for like an hour now.”

 

“Well,” says Jyn. “You’re not doing a very good job of it.”

 

She’s amused by how quickly his expression slides from guilt to irritation. It's a pretty good look on him.

 

“Come on,” she says, reaching for the keys hanging up by the door. “I’ll help you look. ”

 

“I thought you didn’t want to search for it!” says Bodhi, appearing behind her. He smiles at the man in the doorway, who startles at the sight of him.

 

“I’m Bodhi,” he announces, immediately stretching out his hand. (Bodhi’s never fully grasped the concept of stranger danger. Not that she thinks this man is much of a threat, but still.)

 

“Uh,” says the man, taking Bodhi’s hand. “Cassian. I’m in 2B.”

 

“Nice to meet you!”

 

The man glances at Jyn, fast, and then back. “Likewise.”

 

Bodhi grins, then pats Jyn on the shoulder. “Don’t murder the cat, okay?”

 

“Shut up,” says Jyn, rolling her shoulder to shake his hand off. She knocks her elbow against his in goodbye, stepping out into the hallway and shutting the door behind her.

 

She turns to the man—err, Cassian—and lifts her chin.

 

“Jyn,” she says.

 

“Come again?”

 

“That’s my name.”

 

A twitch of a smile. And crap, that’s a pretty good look on him, too. Plus he doesn’t make a comment about how her parents must have been fond of gin and tonics, which immediately bumps him up about twelve points in her estimation.

 

“Come on,” she says, starting down the hallway, but he reaches out to grab her elbow. When she turns to him, his hand flies back.

 

“Uh,” he says, glancing down at her feet. “Shoes?”

 

She looks down at her feet, bare and calloused from too many months wearing the same worn-out sneakers. But whatever, she’s not putting effort into this. It’s her day off.

 

“Not a problem,” she says, continuing down the hall. “It’s not like we’re going to have to go that far.”

 

Forty-five minutes and three blocks later, she’s seriously regretting the choice. It’s just cold enough this late into the fall that her toes are starting to numb, and the cat just won’t be found—it’s like some kind of nightmare creature from a Studio Ghibli film, seemingly leaping from place to place, the sound of its howl disappearing for minutes only to start up again in a completely different location. Jyn was joking before, but at this point she might actually strangle the thing if she ever gets her hands on it.

 

It helps a little that Cassian seems to be, if possible, even more annoyed about it than she is. It’s like she’s able to let loose some of her own rage through his unmasked disdain. She manages to learn a few things about him over the course of this little expedition: that he hates the cold, that he’s staunchly a dog person, that he brews about three pots of coffee to make it through each day. He’s studying to be a human rights lawyer at the same university where she works in athletics. Jyn can only imagine that if he feeds off of this level of simmering displeasure, law was a good choice, profession-wise.

 

“Can it _fly_?” Cassian groans, peering behind someone’s fence. “How is it doing this?”

 

“Maybe it knows we’re following it,” Jyn suggests. “Maybe it’s deliberately tormenting us.”

 

Cassian scowls. “I like to consider myself a fairly rational person, so I pains me to say this, but—god, I bet you’re right.”

 

He checks his watch, swears. “I’m supposed to be writing a paper right now.”

 

“So go,” she says. “Write.”

 

He glances at her, almost hesitant. He looks down to her feet—blotchy and red against the sidewalk—then back up.

 

“Maybe we should both call it a day,” he suggests. “I’ve got frozen chilaquiles I could heat up, if you wanted?”

 

She stares at him. He wilts a little.

 

“Just—you know. As an apology, for yelling before.”

 

“You didn’t yell. You were just being prickly.”

 

He smiles, a flash of something quick and bright. It does weird things to her stomach.

 

“Okay, well. As an apology for being prickly, then.”

 

“You strike me as the kind of person who’s always prickly.”

 

He shrugs. “Well yeah, but I try not to be rude about it.

 

And damn if that doesn’t have her smiling, too.

 

They’re at the gate of the building when she stops, frowns.

 

“Crap, I can’t do chilaquiles. I have to drive Bodhi to his night class.”

 

“Oh,” says Cassian, his hand stilling in his pocket as he reaches for his keys. “That’s fine.”

 

“We only have one car,” she explains, even though she really doesn’t _need_ to give further justification. “And I said I’d go grocery shopping while he’s in class, so.”

 

“Seriously, it’s fine.” But there’s some odd quality to Cassian’s face, now—a wrinkle across his forehead that wasn’t there before.

 

“Maybe next time?”

 

He nods, moving to unlock the door. “Yeah, maybe next time.”

 

It’s the kind of thing you say when you know there isn’t going to be a next time. The thought rubs her the wrong way.

 

* * *

 

But, it turns out, there is a next time.

 

Two days later, the cat’s returned, screeching like a netherworld succubus as it is apparently wont to do. And then Cassian’s returned, too: standing outside her door in a full suit and tie, scowling just a tad less vehemently than he was before.

 

(He’s trimmed his scruff, she notices. Even though she’s not sure _why_ she notices.)

 

“I have to run,” he says, by way of hello. “So I don’t have time to look for the cat right now. But I just wanted to let you know that I hate it, and if you do wind up killing it, I won’t tell the landlord.”

 

Jyn’s got a glass of whiskey in her hand—necessary after such a long day—and she raises it in salute.

 

“Awesome.” She glances down at the suit, deep navy and distractingly well-tailored. “Going to court?”

 

“Kind of. Mock trial.”

 

“May you mock win.” She stretches out the glass, waves it a little in front of his face. “Need a shot before you go?”

 

“I think drinking before court is typically frowned upon,” says Cassian, even as he takes the glass from her fingers, raises it to his lips. She hates herself a little for watching the bob of his adam’s apple as he swallows.

 

“That’s the spirit,” she says, taking her glass back.

 

He nods. “So, uh—good luck with the cat.”

 

Jyn rolls her eyes. “I should really buy earplugs or something. It’s getting ridiculous.”

 

“Yeah.” He pauses for just long enough that Jyn starts to wonder if there’s something else she’s supposed to say. “Well. Bye.”

 

“Bye.”

 

He turns, walking down the hall towards the elevator. Jyn figures she can blame the whiskey for why she stands in the doorway and watches until he turns the corner.

 

* * *

 

Three days later, she gets home from work to find a package at her doorstep. It’s a small box of earplugs with a sticky note attached: _Just in case you decide against cat murder._

 

She stares at the box for a long time. Then she spins on her heel, heads down for 2B.

 

He’s wearing an apron when he opens the door—red with an embroidered eggplant—which is ridiculous enough that she immediately forgets what she was going to say. He’s smiling, a little squished, like he’s trying to bite it back.

 

“Jyn?” he prompts.

 

She shakes herself out of it. “If I were to be brought to trial on account of cat murder, would you represent me?”

 

He crosses his arms over his chest, obscuring the eggplant from view. (Pity.) “I don’t know. Can you be discrete and hide the evidence? I don’t want to lose my first case.”

 

“You’re so picky.”

 

He chuckles, but says nothing else. For a moment they both just stand there, and Jyn realizes: a part of her is expecting him to open the door a tad wider, to let her in.

 

“Thanks,” she says, breaking the silence. “For the earplugs.”

 

He shrugs, a little jut of the shoulder. “You’re welcome.”

 

But he doesn’t open the door any wider, and she—of course—doesn’t ask him to.

 

“See you around,” she offers, a bit lamely. He nods.

 

“See you around, Jyn.”

 

She chalks it up to a strange manifestation of kindness, not worth reading into. The next time she hears the cat howl, she sticks in the earplugs, which actually work pretty well.

 

She spends the evening reading at the kitchen table instead of sequestered away in her room, just in case someone were to knock at the door.

 

No one does.

 

* * *

 

A week later, she’s lying on the couch mindlessly scrolling through the news on her laptop when Bodhi bursts in with two full grocery bags and a gleaming smile.

 

“I found the cat!” he exclaims.

 

Jyn shoots up so fast, she has to catch her laptop before it slides off her stomach.

 

“You did? Where?”

 

“So I was upstairs with Mr. Malbus and Mr. Imwe,” Bodhi starts. Their upstairs neighbors’ frequent insistence that Bodhi call them by their first names seems to not be catching on. “They wanted us to have all this food they won’t be eating while they’re out of town this weekend. There are a bunch of weird vegetables I’ve never heard of, but Mr. Imwe tried to explain how to—”

 

“Bodhi,” Jyn cuts him off. “You’re getting distracted.”

 

“Right, sorry. They asked if while they were gone, I could be sure to leave out food for their cat.”

 

Jyn gapes. “No.”

 

“Yes!”

 

“Fuck.” Jyn loves Baze and Chirrut. How could they betray her like this? “But Chirrut’s blind; his sense of hearing must be heightened. How can he deal with that?”

 

“That’s the thing!” says Baze, starting to unpack what is, admittedly, a very weird looking bulbous vegetable from the grocery bag. “The cat is _deaf_. Or at least partially. Mr. Imwe got attached to her, so that’s why they took her in. Or, well, they didn’t really take her in—she’s still an outdoor cat, I think? They just leave food for her on their balcony.”

 

“Her,” Jyn repeats. “It’s a her, now?”

 

“They’re calling her Melody. I think the irony was intentional.”

 

“Oh, for god’s sake.” Jyn rolls off the couch and stalks over to the kitchen. “So you’re telling me I can’t kill her, then?”

 

“I’ve been telling you that from the start,” Bodhi points out. “But you also can’t get rid of her.”

 

“Ugh, fine. Need help with dinner?”

 

“Not the actual cooking, no. But you could start googling some of these vegetables for me?”

 

Jyn rolls her eyes. Bodhi’s still uppity about that one time she accidentally set a dishcloth on fire, even though she put it out fast enough. That’s what fire extinguishers are _for_.

 

She considers whether it’s worth heading back down to 2B and letting Cassian know they’ve solved the case. Just to bring the whole thing full circle. Still, it’s not like....they’re not exactly _friends_. It might be weird.

 

But the decision gets made for her when she heads down to do laundry later that evening and finds Cassian sitting  on one of the chairs in the corner, a massive textbook in his lap. He looks up when she enters, smiles when he sees her. Her heart bobbles at the sight.

 

“So,” she says, dumping her laundry bag on the floor and sliding into the seat next to him, “I have news.”

 

His eyebrows fly up. “News?”

 

“Cat news.”

 

“Did you murder it?”

 

“Her. And no. Turns out, Baze and Chirrut from 4C have unofficially adopted her.”

 

Cassian takes a moment to process this information. Then: “Fuck.”

 

She laughs. “Right?”

 

“They’re so nice,” he groans. “They helped me jumpstart my car once in the dead of winter. I can’t begrudge them a cat.”

 

“I know, it’s the worst.”

 

Cassian glances at her. “Do they know that we’re not supposed to have pets in this building?”

 

“It doesn’t really live with them, just...visits.” She bristles. “Why, going to take it to the landlord?”

 

“No,” he says, fast. “No, of course not.” He actually looks a little alarmed at the thought.

 

“Good,” she says. “Bodhi’s going to feed it this weekend. He’s always had a fairly calming presence, so I’m hoping he’ll be able to magically quiet it the hell down.”

 

Cassian chuckles. “Yeah. You two have been together for a while?”

 

“I mean, he was already with my parents by the time they had me, so yeah. All my life.”

 

Cassian blinks. His brow furrows in confusion. And that’s when Jyn realizes: she’s never explained Bodhi. Cassian has no idea who Bodhi is.

 

Oh, fuck.

 

“Wait,” she says. “By together, do you mean, in a _relationship_ together?”

 

“Well,” says Cassian, with a feeble shrug. “Yeah?”

 

Jyn barks a laugh. It’s not the first time someone’s made the mistake, but it’s uncomfortable and unfortunate every goddamn time.

 

“He’s my brother. My parents adopted him a few years before I was born.”

 

His face stays very, very still. Then he closes the textbook with a muffled thunk.

 

“Well,” he says. “Shit.”

 

“I mean, we don’t look anything alike,” Jyn offers. “So I get the confusion, I guess.”

 

“No, it’s—” Cassian breaks off with a tight laugh. He tilts his head to her. “Okay, uh, do you like Mexican food?”

 

“I don’t see how that’s relevant, but does anyone _not_ like Mexican food?”

 

He grins. “Good answer. Do you want to come by for dinner tomorrow?”

 

“And escape the weird vegetables? Sure.” At his questioning look, she shakes her head. “Don’t ask.”

 

“Okay.”

 

She shifts on the chair, bites her lip. “You sure, though? I don’t want to intrude.”

 

“You wouldn’t be.” As much as she likes it when he puffs up with anger, she might like him even more like this—a bit softer, all those hard edges dulled.

 

“I would have asked you before,” he continues. “But I was operating under the severely misguided assumption that your brother was your boyfriend.”

 

She eyes him, careful. “Because if I had a boyfriend, it wouldn’t be worth spending time with me?”

 

“No,” says, insistent. “No, that’s not—of course it would. I just didn’t want you to think I knew you had a boyfriend and was hitting on you anyway.”

 

She whips her neck to look at him, so fast she nearly tweaks a muscle. “You were hitting on me?”

 

He glances at her, smile soft and wry. “Well, not before. Because of the boyfriend.”

 

“And now?”

 

He bites his lip. (She tries not to stare.)

 

“Still want to do dinner tomorrow?” he asks, deliberately light. Something bright bubbles up in Jyn’s chest, so overwhelming she has to reach out and punch Cassian’s thigh to let loose some of the energy. He yelps.

 

“You’re bad at this,” she says.

 

He laughs, rubs his leg where she hit him. “Believe me, I know.”

 

“Okay,” she says. “Dinner tomorrow. But first laundry, so I have clothes to wear to dinner tomorrow.”

 

If she’s not mistaken, his cheeks redden just a bit.

 

“I just assumed you’d wear sweats,” he says. “I don’t think I’ve seen you in anything but sweats.”

 

She laughs. “Sweats it is, then. Zero effort. Perfect.”

 

He grins, glancing down at the floor.

 

“Perfect.”

 

* * *

 

Melody’s on a tear the next night, screaming bloody murder for no reason Jyn can fathom except that she must love to be the cause of mass suffering. Jyn sticks her earplugs in the moment she gets home, but by the time she heads down to Cassian’s—in sweats; she wasn’t fucking kidding—she’s already got a bit of a headache. Which sucks, because it’s not like the whole dating thing comes easily to her. It would be nice if her body was on her side.

 

Cassian opens the door wearing jeans, a bright blue sweater, and a scowl so deep, it looks like his face might freeze that way.

 

“Hi,” he says, handing her a glass of wine. “Welcome. I hate this cat so fucking much.”

 

Jyn takes the glass from his outstretched fingers and feels the little knot of tension between her shoulders release.

 

“I bet you anything I hate it more.”

 

“I wasn’t aware it was a competition.”

 

“Well then you’ve already lost.”

 

He smiles, steps back to give her room to enter.

 

“Come on in, Jyn.”

 

She grins.

 

“If you insist.”

**Author's Note:**

> It's hard to write who these two could have been without two decades of war defining them. When all the abandonment issues and survival instincts are stripped away, what seemed to remain most prevalently for me was: they are both such grouches. And voila.
> 
> [leralynne](http://leralynne.tumblr.com) on tumblr!


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